


Intangible

by BalefireFlatlands



Category: Far Cry 5, Far Cry: New Dawn
Genre: Everyone is Dead, M/M, Yes he dies, heed the warnings, i'm a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Staci survives the jeep crash at the end and is left to wander alone during the nuclear fallout.Well.Mostly alone.





	Intangible

Fire crackled around the crashed jeep, small embers licking at the sparse grass and heralding the raging fire that was starting to consume the car and all its occupants. There were three similarly dressed corpses, flung about like ragdolls from the impact with a fallen tree. 

Only one of of them wasn't dead, not yet anyway. Pushing himself up off the seat, Deputy Pratt cringed and nearly fell, an involuntary scream of pain erupting from him. Flames licked at his clothing, singeing his hair and the exposed skin on his arms had turned red and bubbled up. Trying to get away from the fire Pratt shoved as hard as he could, falling out of the jeep and writhing on the ground. 

The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, and the searing pain was enough for him to forget all his training for situations like this. He'd gotten the stop and drop part, but instead of rolling out the fire he screamed and held his broken arm to his chest. 

"Get up."

The voice was barely audible over the roaring of the encroaching forest fire and Pratt's panting, pained breathing. He couldn't speak, his throat burning from inhaling the smoke, his gasping breaths doing more harm than good as he drew embers directly into his lungs.

"Get up and get moving."

Focus. Focus on the voice and what he needed to do. Pratt coughed, rolling onto his side and getting up on his hands and knees. He needed to get away from here, needed to get to safety. Dutch's bunker? That's where they'd been going when...

"Rook?" Struggling to his feet, Pratt swatted the smoke away with his good arm and headed towards the jeep again. "Hudson? Is anyone...?"

Well the Sheriff wasn't alive, that was for sure. He'd gone through the windshield and his head was smashed open and bloody. Ahead of him was Hudson on the floor of the backseat and he reached in to wrap his arm around her torso, dragging her out onto the ground.

"Hudson? Joey! Joey get up. We gotta get out of here." Pratt dug his fingers into her neck, checking in vain for a pulse. Nothing.

"They're all dead. And you will be soon if you don't get. Moving. Now."

He tilted his head to her mouth, hoping for a whisper of a breath. Something. Anything. 

But she was long gone. He started to shake, holding onto her shoulders as tears pricked his eyes. 

"Jesus Christ Pratt. Get up!" The source of the voice strode over, brightly shimmering and translucent. He stomped up to Pratt, his boots making no noise on the ground, the bushes not reacting as he walked into them. One hand went for the collar of Pratt's shirt to yank him around as he backhanded him roughly across the face.

Except none of that happened.

His hand went right through Pratt, though the man recoiled from the threat of it anyway. Either way it was effective as Pratt set Joey down on the ground and got to his feet, backing away from the apparition of Jacob.

"You're dead." But he didn't sound so sure, his voice questioning. 

"And you will be too if you don't get out of here!"

Pratt rubbed his busted arm, staring in disbelief at what he presumed was a hallucination of Jacob. He must have hit his head in the crash and this was the result. But Jacob had a point, he couldn't stay here. The bunker. Rook. That would be safe. Trying to get his bearings he looked around, running his hand through his hair and giving a pained squawk when huge handfulls of hair fell out, singed and damaged.

Behind him Jacob was looking at his hands curiously. Experimentally he knelt down and tried to touch Hudson's shoulder, his hand going through her to rest on the ground below. The car seemed to be tangible, he could use the tire to prop himself back up to his feet. Though he couldn't do anything with it, he couldn't pull the seatbelts out, couldn't open the glovebox, holding his hand in the fire he could feel the heat, but the flames didn't connect.

In the time it took him to test out what he could interact with, Pratt had stumbled away in the direction of the bunker. "Not that way. Joseph won't let you in, you've been out in the radiation too long. Follow me."

Pratt was obviously in shock, and he obediently turned and followed Jacob, unable to process anything anymore. That was a blessing, because once he snapped out of it he was in for a world of pain. His left arm was fractured, half his body or more was covered in burns, bits of skin hanging off from where it had roasted away from the underlying layers. His face had taken the brunt of the impact with the front seat and his nose was leaking blood, from the way he was drooling he might have lost some teeth too.

Worst of all, it would be a miracle if he didn't lose sight in his eye. It was red and leaking something yellow and thick, the iris milky white. When he turned to look at Jacob, that eye didn't move in the socket.

"You're dead. Rook killed you."

"I know. I was there when it happened." 

Jacob had a small smirk on his lips, leading them down from the road.

"Where are we going?"

"First to the river to get your burns clean. And then someplace safe." Jacob nonchalantly scratched his cheek as he turned to look at the mushroom cloud pouring up into the air. "You've been out in the radiation too long already, a bit longer won't hurt."

Pratt was wheezing and struggling to keep up by the time they got to the river, collapsing into the muddy bank and managing to put one hand in the cool water. 

"All the way in. Scrub your arms to get the dead skin off." Jacob tried to help Pratt to stand back up, frowning when he couldn't interact with him. Instead he walked out into the water himself, washing his hands and watching as the blood dirtied the water. He tried to scoop some up to wash his face, but while his hands could touch it, and he could feel the wetness, it wouldn't come away with him and he had to shove his face in the water instead.

Nearby Pratt was kneeling in the river, sobbing in pain as he did as Jacob instructed, his skin peeling off in thin sheets. He was muttering between his pained gasps, "Be strong. Be strong. Be strong."

"Alright. That's good enough. Time to get inside before the fallout." 

Pratt didn't give any indication that he'd heard, continuing to scrub at his skin and repeat the same two words again and again. 

"Pratt. Pratt!" Jacob tried to shake him, giving a frustrated growl when he stumbled through him instead. "Pratt look at me."

Jacob knelt down in front of him, holding his hands near the side of Pratt's face. Pratt couldn't feel it, and neither could Jacob, but he kept them there, trying to make Pratt meet his eyes, "You are strong. But you need to get inside. You're going to follow me now, understand?"

In the midst of a mental break, Pratt stared at him, lips parted as he heaved out anguished breaths. The words seemed to finally sink in, and he nodded, getting to his feet. 

Uncoordinated and in pain, he fell, sinking into the water and catching himself heavily on his broken arm. 

Even knowing he wouldn't be able to touch him, Jacob immediately reached out to break his fall, his arms sliding through Pratt's torso. Snarling he punched his fist into the water, furious that he was so helpless when Pratt was struggling.

There wasn't even a satisfying splash.

\---

"Your snare caught a rabbit."

Pratt nodded, silently getting to his feet and limping out of the cave. Weeks had passed since the crash. Months? Maybe, he wasn't sure - time was blending together in unsettling ways. The pain of his injuries had stolen days from him. Time spent writhing in agony on the floor of the cave, screaming loud enough to scare the remaining wildlife nearby. 

Jacob had tried again and again to put a hand on his shoulder, to bring him water, to tend to his wounds. But he just got more and more frustrated at being unable to do anything, stomping off and leaving Pratt alone for what seemed like an eternity. In reality it had been less than an hour, Jacob couldn't abandon Pratt to his fate. 

He watched as Pratt hobbled out of the cave to go check his traps. But he didn't get up to follow him, staying by the fire and trying in vain to grab a stick and stoke it so it wouldn't die before Pratt got back. Eventually he gave up, dropping his head into his hands before suddenly snapping. He roared to his feet, yelling and trying to kick over everything around him. Slamming his fist into the wall didn't do too much to make him feel better, even though that at least connected, his hand splintering and splattering blood everywhere before reknitting almost instantly. 

By the time Pratt returned, exhausted from the short excursion, Jacob was calmly sitting by the fire once more. The only evidence of his outburst the blood streaking down the wall that Pratt didn't notice. It was on his blind side, and he would have been too tired to register it anyway. 

"All I do is sleep. Why am I so tired all the time?"

"You're healing. From the burns." He tried to reach out to push Pratt's hair back from his face, pulling his hand back before it got there. It wasn't worth it to even try. "Cook that and eat it before you go back to sleep. Give your body something to work with."

Mechanically Pratt obeyed, skinning and cleaning the rabbit and setting it to cook over the fire. "Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not. I can't even bring you water when you run out. Or keep the fire going. Or do fucking anything." He sounded more bitter and hollow than normal, glaring down at the cooking meat rather than looking at Pratt.

"But you're trying to. Why?"

"You deserve a better death than radiation poisoning. You've become strong, done everything I asked of you and more. You were well on the path of becoming one of my Chosen."

"You left me to starve to death." Pratt shakily stood up, his hands balling into fists. "You _broadcast_ it to everyone. So the whole county could watch me fucking die!"

Jacob didn't move, eyeing Pratt with the barest glint of amusement, "You were never going to die down there. If your precious deputy hadn't rescued you after dealing with Eli, I would have let you out. I worked too hard to make you what you are to waste it."

Gnashing his teeth Pratt took a calming breath before letting out an feral scream and leaping at Jacob, trying to tackle him into the wall, hands ready to throttle him. 

"That's not gonna work Peaches." Jacob sadly looked over at where Pratt was now plastered on the ground, having thrown himself right through Jacob. 

Pratt threw a handful of dirt at him in frustration, getting up on his hands and knees and crawling back to the fire. Thudding into the hard ground hadn't done his healing arm or burns any favors. 

"If I could I'd have let you tackle me. I think you deserve to get at least one good pummeling in." Jacob pulled the sniper rifle off his back, taking it apart into pieces to clean it. The effort was pointless, he couldn't shoot anything, but the familiarity was comforting. "You always had spirit. Liked that about you."

"What me standing in the corner while you did your slideshow?" Pratt snorted, rubbing at his blind eye. It felt like he'd gotten some dirt in it, he sometimes didn't blink properly in that eye anymore.

"You know that's not what I mean." Jacob meticulously wiped the already immaculate gun down, concentrating on that instead of Pratt. "Passed the trials in record time. Didn't let anything escape on hunts."

"I never made my sacrifice."

"You sure about that?"

Pratt looked suddenly confused, cutting meat off the rabbit to check for doneness. "Don't I have to kill my parents or some sick shit?"

"No. That just happens to be what most people choose. You don't actually have to kill anyone." Satisfied with his cleaning job, he looked at Pratt through his scope. "Cull the herd. Sacrifice the weak. That's you Staci Pratt. You were weak. If John were here he'd say your sin was Pride. You didn't know where you were going. What you were doing. You lacked a purpose. And now you're strong. You've sacrificed who you used to be, and you're better for it."

A little stunned, Pratt ate in silence for a while, thinking about that. "I don't feel strong."

"You survived didn't you? I haven't seen anyone else out here."

"They're all in their bunkers not dying of radiation sickness like I will be." 

"Maybe. But I'm going to guess most people died before they could get to them. And they'll have to come out early anyway. Even Eli wasn't prepared to feed dozens of people for seven years." Putting his gun to the side, Jacob leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "You really want to be in a bunker with the same people for years on end?"

"Not really. Even being in the Wolf's Den was making me stir crazy."

"Better off out here. In nature."

Pratt snorted, "With you. Half blind, burnt up, and with radiation poisoning."

"It won't be that bad Peaches. You're stronger than you think." Standing, Jacob headed out towards the mouth of the cave, "Get some sleep. I'll go keep watch."

\---

"They coming this way?"

"No, it looks like they're heading towards Prosperity." Jacob stood on the ridge of the cave, scope to his eye as he watched the brightly colored car in the distance.

Next to them stood a few white wolves, brushing up against Pratt's legs as he absently stroked their ears. "There's been more of them lately."

"I think they're trying to make an encampment near here." Jacob frowned, lowering the gun. "It's a show of strength, but they're wasting fuel and ammunition doing it. Pointless."

"Considering how many people they've killed, it doesn't seem pointless to me."

Jacob snorted, "You going to go join up with them?"

"Fuck no." Standing there in a too large army jacket that he'd scavenged, Pratt scratched at his scarred up cheek, a grim parody of Jacob. In the years since the Collapse, Pratt had barely scraped by, surviving on sickly rabbits and deer while drinking boiled water. He'd been sick more often than not, and it was only now that the nuclear winter had given way to a bloom of plants that he could stay awake and functional for more than a few hours at a time.

The apparition of Jacob had been his constant companion, and though he thought it was a hallucination caused by a head injury and radiation poisoning, he clung to it. It was the closest thing to human interaction he had and he was definitely starting to go kind of insane from being touch starved and alone.

Eyes following the car in the distance, Jacob sighed, "You heading off to warn Prosperity about them?" He sounded less than impressed.

"Not this time. They can handle it." Rubbing at his shoulder Pratt limped back into the cave, using one of the wolves to lower himself to the ground. Every movement was a struggle, and his labored breathing reverberated off the cave walls. He curled up, his face full of pain that he was trying to not show to Jacob.

"Take your shoes off. Let me see your foot." Jacob knelt down by Pratt, his hand resting around where his shoulder was. It had been years and Jacob still instinctively tried to touch him. He frowned at the injury, Pratt had been bitten by a wolverine and the wound was festering. If he hadn't needed to go out and hunt and get water daily, it would have healed by now. But he had no choice if he didn't want to starve to death; Jacob couldn't do it for him. "You're going to need to go to Prosperity soon anyway. Get that looked at."

"You hate Prosperity. Said they're weak."

"They have a doctor."

"And I have you." Pratt gave a weak smile, reaching down to try and cover Jacob's hand with his own as he curled up on the threadbare mattress. His blind eye was towards Jacob so he couldn't see the man soften, his hand shifting to be in the proper place beneath where Pratt's palm was hovering just above his side.

"I'm not a doctor. Can't even bandage you up."

"Just tell me what to do when I wake back up. I'll be stronger after I get some sleep."

"Alright Pratt. You rest up." His voice wavered ever so slightly as he desperately tried to pull the blanket up over Pratt before dropping his head in frustration. He got up and left, wading through a sea of fluffy tails as the wolves watched him, one of the few creatures that seemed to be able to see him. 

Too bad he couldn't touch them either. 

Rubbing at his eyes he went on his patrol route, taking note of anything that Pratt needed to know, threats in his territory, supplies to come get later. He sat on a rock near the river, watching a herd of white and pink deer come to drink. He should have been able to shoot them, bring one back to the cave, let Pratt stay off his injured foot for a decent amount of time.

He was fucking worthless. Helpless. With no purpose.

In a sudden fit of rage he charged into the herd of deer, swinging his rifle like a bat to bludgeon them. Get them to scatter and run.

Something.

Anything.

But he was left standing in shin-deep water, shoulders heaving with the effort as the deer continued to calmly have their drink before heading on their way. 

Jacob miserably finished his patrol. Going back to the cave and sitting next to Pratt. He tried to stroke his hair, closing his eyes and calling up everything in his memories to imagine what that would feel like. 

Too bad he didn't know. He'd never touched someone without the intention of causing them harm. He had no idea what Pratt's hair would feel like and he let out a strangled sob, dropping his hand and looking utterly defeated.

Eventually he laid down himself, back to back with Pratt or as close as he could get anyway. 

Joseph had been wrong about a lot of things, but he had been right about this. Those who didn't get into Eden were doomed to an existence of absolute torture.

\---

"Oh come on guys. You know it's Pratt. Let him in." Wheaty shouldered his gun and pulled the bar out of the door to swing it open.

"He's a Peggie. Can't be too careful."

Wheaty snorted, reaching out to help Pratt with the bundle he was carrying. "Hey man. How's.. how's it going?"

It was a hollow question, he could see for himself that Pratt wasn't doing well. Every time he saw him he seemed to have dwindled somewhat. He was getting sicker and sicker. Whether from radiation or just the hardships of living out in a cave for years, Pratt was far from the Deputy he remembered.

"Brought you some skins. And one of those saw guns, for Grace." Pratt limped into Prosperity, looking around and blinking in surprise. "This is bigger than I remember."

"It's been a while since you've been by. We were getting worried about you."

"No, you weren't." Pratt snorted, giving Wheaty a look. He was very aware that they didn't trust him, and for the older residents he was a reminder of what had happened before, a link to the past. It certainly didn't help that now that he was covered in scars and wearing an army jacket he actually resembled Jacob. 

No one wanted those memories.

"Well. I was anyway." Wheaty clapped a hand to Pratt's shoulder, leading him towards the clinic. "Highwaymen been leaving you alone?"

"So far. I don't have anything they want." Pratt had to stop and catch his breath, leaning heavily on Wheaty. "They seem more focused on this place."

"Yeah but we've been fighting. Should have seen it, I shot one right off his motorcycle and he crashed into a fuel tanker."

"That's not impressive, that's a waste of a fuel tanker."

Pratt turned to glare at Jacob, forgetting that no one else could hear or see him. Just another thing Pratt did that made everyone around uncomfortable. But Wheaty didn't notice, looking down at the bloody footprints Pratt was leaving in his wake.

"You should probably stay the night. Get off that for a while."

"No one wants me here that long Wheaty. I'll be out of your hair in a few hours."

"Nah man. You're like.. the last Peggie in existence. We can sell tickets. Have little kids come visit."

Pratt managed a smile, "I'll tell them all about culling the herd. It'll be educational."

"See? Scare them into doing their chores and eating their vegetables."

"I don't think I'm cut out to be around a lot of people. Not anymore." He winced as Wheaty helped lower him down onto a cot, taking a deep breath before leaning forward to unlace his shoes. "I'm a fucking mess."

"We got the hot water heater working again if you want to take a shower."

"Okay now you're making a compelling case."

He did end up staying the night, collapsing into an actual bed and sleeping so deeply he didn't wake up when Wheaty starting blaring rock music at dawn. Jacob had been surprisingly quiet, standing in the corner of the room and watching, but not saying anything.

Pratt deserved a good night's rest and a shower. He wouldn't deprive him of those things.

But while Wheaty seemed to genuinely want Pratt around, no one else in Prosperity did. It was obvious in the way they gave him a wide berth, the pitying looks given by those who remembered him as a Deputy.

Pratt hadn't seemed to mind, nodding to them politely before heading back to his cave and the waiting pack of wolves milling around. This was his home now. This was where he belonged.

\---

"You really are a mess."

Pratt startled, turning to glare at Jacob. "You're supposed to be keeping watch."

"I'm watching." Jacob plucked a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket and lit it up. The pack never emptied, he'd been smoking the same cigarette for nearly a decade.

Flushing a little, Pratt looked away. He was sitting naked in the shallows of the river, scooping water over his skin and cleaning himself off. He was so scarred up that he found it easier to do this while seated, able to get into the pockmarks and damaged skin much better when he wasn't concentrating on swimming.

Burns covered more than half of Pratt's torso, wrapping down his back and twisting around both arms. He was incredibly skinny and as Jacob approached he mentally counted every vertebrae down his spine. There were older wounds that had been hidden by the burns, damages from the helicopter crash and then from Jacob's training and torture. Every scar bearing mute testimony to a life of utter torment.

"It's been seven years Peaches. I know what you look like naked." 

"That's not the point."

Jacob ignored him, going to squat down next to him, "How's your foot doing?"

"Mostly healed." He poked it out of the water to show the new pink skin growing over the old bite wound. He rubbed at his eye, turning his head to look at Jacob, "Now I just have to deal with this shit."

Reaching out to put his hand near Pratt's blind eye, his thumb brushed against he skin. Or near it anyway. He'd gotten fairly good at holding his hands where they should have been if he could actually touch Pratt. "I like it. You look like a survivor. You've seen some battles."

Unable to help himself, Pratt smiled. "That sounds a lot better than 'nearly burnt to death in a car crash.'"

"You've been in more than enough fights since then to make up for it." Jacob's thumb softly moved near Pratt's cheek, what would have been a gentle stroke if he could have made contact.

Pratt reached up, trying to run his hands along Jacob's arms, eyes focusing on the scars, "We match now."

"Not intentional." He smiled softly, his eyes dropping to take in the rest of Pratt. Most of his chest had been replaced with scar tissue, a few small patches of hair here and there were all that remained of how he used to look prior to the fire. His lower half was in the water, clear enough that Jacob could make out the shape of his thighs, a tuft of hair between his legs gently floating in the current.

Pratt heated under his gaze. He didn't move or pull away, but the very tips of his ears and cheeks turned red, matching the deep discoloration of all his burns. 

Sighing, Jacob dropped his hands from where he'd been caressing the air instead of Pratt's face. "Finish your bath. I'll go keep watch."

Pratt started to say something in response, but all that came out was a soft, distressed sound, watching as Jacob walked away.

Once out of sight, Jacob angrily kicked at a rock, not even getting the satisfaction of that small gesture. He didn't know what he wanted out of Pratt, but not being able to touch him wasn't just frustrating, at this point it was agonizing.

\---

"Look sharp Peaches. Patrol coming." Jacob trained his scope on the approaching ATV. He needn't have said anything as the loud music would have announced itself soon enough.

"I see it." Pratt crouched down in the grass, trying to make himself less visible as he pulled his pistol. 

The Highwaymen had already spotted him, loosing a few shots in his general direction as they sped up to try and run him down. He popped up briefly to unload a few bullets, killing the one on the back of the vehicle before Pratt dove to the side and out of the way. 

Jacob stood there awkwardly, unable to contribute anything and seeing no way that he could help. 

Pratt managed to kill the other raider before he needed to stop to reload. "I think they know I'm out here now. There'll be more of them coming. Maybe we should move."

"Maybe." Jacob wasn't fond of the idea of running away, but one person versus an entire gang of bandits wasn't great odds. He started to say something else, but there was sudden gunfire and time seemed to stop.

It had always seemed cliche to him when people described moments of trauma as going in slow motion. Jacob had been through more trauma than he could even remember and never once had that happened. But right now, he was getting his first taste of it.

The sound of the quick burst of buckshot from a shotgun seemed to be frozen on a single high pitched note. As he stared, Pratt went down, blood slowly leaking from him and staining his jacket. In reality everything happened in a fraction of a second, but it felt like minutes were ticking away, Jacob staring at Pratt in a state of shock.

Neither of them had seen the second ATV. It drove up next to Pratt, the driver pointlessly shooting him again in the back as he lay prone. They didn't even stop to loot, or to retrieve their fallen comrades, cranking the music higher and turning to go hunt somewhere else. 

Jacob dropped to his knees next to Pratt, "Staci?"

He couldn't check for a pulse, he couldn't feel breath against his hand, but as he fruitlessly tried to put his palm against the wound, Pratt's blood flowed warm over his skin. Jacob couldn't apply any pressure to try and stop the bleeding, yet his hands were now coated in the man's blood.

There was a soft groan, and Pratt tried to move his head. 

"Pratt, this side. Over here." He shifted to be on Pratt's good side, leaning down so that he could be seen.

The unsettling gurgling noise Pratt made sent Jacob's stomach plummeting. He'd heard that sound dozens of times before. He knew what that meant.

"No no. Don't get up. The ground is putting pressure on the wound if you stand up you'll..." He trailed off as Pratt wasn't listening to him, struggling to his feet and wrapping his arms around his midsection. Jacob put bloodied hands through Pratt's stomach in a failed attempt to hold the wound shut, utterly helpless.

Pratt staggered back towards the cave, stumbling and falling several times. Beside him Jacob fumed silently, his face twisted in worry, an expression that didn't suit him at all. Each time Pratt fell to his knees he tried to catch him, hoping that maybe this time, _this time_ , it would work and he'd be able to do what he couldn't for the past decade.

On the floor of the cave, Pratt curled into a ball, holding his bloodsoaked stomach and gasping for air. 

Even if Jacob had been able to interact with him, there wouldn't have been anything he could do to save him. Pratt was going to die. Still, he could have made him comfortable in his final moments, or even mercy killed him so he didn't suffer. 

Because he was definitely suffering, each breath spraying out droplets of blood as Pratt's lungs tried to keep functioning amidst the wreckage of his torso. 

Far away came the music again, Jacob ignored it, all his attention on Pratt next to him, his hand hovering near his face as his fingers twitched to try and wipe the blood off. The music seemed to get through to Pratt however; and he hauled himself to his feet again despite Jacob's protests. He staggered around, scooping everything in the cave into his backpack.

"What the hell are you doing? Lay back down!"

"The highwaymen don't deserve this stuff. They can't have it." Pratt's voice was so low it was hard to hear, huge gasping breaths between each word as he struggled to speak.

"Pratt, it... it doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to me."

Jacob shut up, silently trailing next to him as Pratt half crawled out of the cave and down to the road. 

\---

"Holy shit! Pratt are you.. what the fuck?" Wheaty caught Pratt as he fell into Prosperity, his gurgled words completely inaudible. 

Recovering from a coughing fit that forced even more gore out through his wounds, Pratt tried to back out the door, "Brought you all my things so the highwaymen can't have them. You guys can use it. I won't need it anymore." He tried to pull off a blood splattered smile, but it turned into more of a grimace, as he pushed away from the door. 

"Whoa whoa. Where are you going? And don't worry about the stuff. Jesus Pratt, who cares about the stuff?" Wheaty tightened his grip all but dragging him further into Prosperity and leaving a bloody trail behind him.

"Don't want my corpse smelling up your nice settlement."

"C'mon Pratt." He was trying to get him to the clinic, but Pratt's legs gave out suddenly and he tumbled to the ground. There was a commotion up on one of the ramparts, and Wheaty glanced over towards it before getting Pratt settled on the ground where he was. There wasn't much of a point in taking him to the clinic anyway, there wasn't anything they could do. 

One of the scouts called out, "There's a New Edener out there." 

"What?" Wheaty looked over at them, then back at Pratt who had curled up around his bleeding stomach wound. Too much was happening at once and Wheaty didn't know what to focus on.

"What do they want?" Kim Rye had emerged from the main house, kneeling by Pratt and then straightening up to head to the rampart.

"I dunno. There's only one of 'em. They're just... standing there." The scout trained her gun on the interloper, unsure if she should open fire to get them to go away. "Wearing a weird mask. That Judge person."

"Let them in." That was Jacob, speaking for the first time even though no one could hear him. He seemed to be looking through the wall rather than at it from where he was crouched by Pratt.

Kim and Wheaty looked at each other, eyes searching for answers. 

Wheaty was the first to break the stalemate, looking back at the gate, "Open it up."

"But.."

Kim nodded, "Open the gate."

Confused guards slowly slid the bar out of the door and opened it. They didn't trust those religious fanatics from up north. Even those who hadn't been around for Eden's Gate were leery of a group of people who had forsaken technology on the word of their leader amidst a war.

Ignoring them completely, the New Edener strode into Prosperity, heading directly for Pratt. They were clad in brown rags from head to toe with a bow hooked over their shoulder. Eyes were hidden behind a white mask but they did seem to look at Jacob for a lingering moment before kneeling next to the downed former Deputy.

Pratt tilted his head to be able to better see them, a small smile on his lips, "Hey Rook."

Silently nodding, they slid a hand against Pratt's face, fingers lining up exactly where Jacob's had been, as if trying to give substance to the ghost trying so hard to be close to Pratt. Their other hand went to the massive amount of blood pouring from his midsection, masked face taking in the extent of Pratt's injuries. Shoulders heaved in a sigh, and they shook their head before pulling back. 

Rooting around in a pocket, the masked New Edener pulled something silver and shiny out and held it up to Pratt who's eyes went wide.

"You've had that this whole time?" He started to laugh, but it turned into a weak cough. "You're not walking around with John's tattoo gun are you?"

There was a chuckle from behind the mask as they shook their head. Reaching a hand out they offered the item to Pratt who nodded faintly. 

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Wheaty glared and went to stomp closer. 

But Kim put an arm out, holding him back. "Leave it. Come on. Leave them." She put her hands against Wheaty's chest, coaxing him to leave the two of them alone. This was something they were never going to understand. They'd been on the receiving end of a lot of shit at the hands of Eden's Gate, but nothing compared to what the Deputies experienced.

"But.."

"You don't know what they went through. Neither do I. Just.. This is the time to leave well enough alone."

Next to Pratt, the former hero of Hope County turned a masked face towards Jacob, gesturing at what they were holding. 

Jacob stared, his hand going to his chest where his dog tags and rabbit's foot had been so long ago. He nodded, a little in shock that someone else could finally see him.

Pushing Pratt's hair back from his face, the dog tags jangled as they were slid over his neck. Almost immediately Pratt started to breathe easier, his hand coming up to latch onto the tags and try and keep the blood off. He had his eyes closed now, unable to see either of them as they silently stayed there with him to the end.

Somehow there should have been more fanfare as the last member of Jacob's army died. Wolves should have howled as the skies opened up in a rainy downpour. But it was a bright sunny day, and the only people who even noticed were those in Prosperity.

Wheaty carefully scooped Pratt up, trying to ignore Jacob's dog tags as they jangled and slid to the side. Kim and the masked New Edener followed behind as Wheaty took the body down to the river. They'd burn him, the way they had Eli so long ago. 

It was only fitting.

\---

Jacob sat by the smoldering embers long after everyone had left. Twilight settled around him, a swarm of fireflies taking flight to follow the gently gurgling river down into the woods. He didn't notice any of those things, staring off into space without seeing it.

He was alone now. 

Rook could see him, but he wasn't going to go to New Eden with them. Joseph's new society of peace could rot into the ground for all he cared. That wasn't what they had come here for, the hypocrite.

He rubbed at his eyes. What was he going to do now? Doomed to roam the earth alone and unable to interact with anything for all eternity. Watch as society built itself back up only to inevitably collapse again? That's what people did, that's all they were good for: destroying everything they created.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he deserved this.

There was an odd sound, like crackling embers only louder and deeper. Jacob looked up sharply as the burnt chunks of wood from Pratt's pyre blew away in the wind to splash into the water just below. Something was moving there. A shimmery sort of fog was coalescing together into a familiar shape.

"Pratt?" He got to his feet, staring in shock. 

"What... What the fuck?" Pratt tried to get up, stumbling and falling into the remains of the fire. None of it moved as his body impacted the ground, the dog tags around his neck jingling loudly.

There was a surge of relief when Jacob realized he wasn't as alone as he thought, followed by a deep pang of regret that he'd somehow dragged Pratt into this purgatory with him. Pratt had already suffered more than enough. 

"Deep breath. You're okay. Take it easy." He futilely reached out to help Pratt up, nearly snatching his hand away and dropping him as his fingers actually connected.

"I'm _not_ okay. I'm dead and I'm..." He trailed off, staring down at Jacob's hand around his arm. Abruptly his gaze shot up to Jacob's face, scrambling to his feet and reaching out to put his palm against his chest.

Jacob's eyes softened, a small smile twinging at his lips, "Seem just fine to me Peaches." He leaned down, resting his forehead against Pratt's and briefly closing his eyes.

Hands fisting in Jacob's jacket, Pratt took a deep breath, "Is this a hallucination? Am I still dying?"

"No. I don't know what this is, or why we're still here, but it's real enough." With a trembling hand he reached up to stroke Pratt's hair making a delighted noise at finally knowing what that felt like.

Pratt leaned into it, eyes closed as he tilted his head into those scarred up fingers. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out."

"These are yours," Pratt's fingers closed around the dog tags, starting to lift them over his head.

Jacob put a hand over his, keeping them in place, "No. You keep them for me."

"Gonna stay with me?" Pratt's eyes were filling with tears, so overcome with emotions after years of not being able to interact with the one person who had stuck with him. He tightened his grip on Jacob's jacket, not wanting to let go in case he never got him back. 

Jacob trailed his hand lower, cupping the side of Pratt's face with his palm, "I'm not going anywhere. Just me and you."

It shouldn't have been funny, but Pratt laughed anyway, "Only me?"

Jacob smiled, pulling him closer so he could rest his cheek against the top of Pratt's head. "Only you Staci. Only you."

Chuckling, Pratt wrapped him in a hug, "Now I really know I'm dead, because you're somehow managing to make that sound sweet instead of horrifying."

"The past was a long time ago." Jacob rubbed his back, marveling at how warm he was. "I haven't said anything about culling the herd in at least a decade."

"A changed man."

"For you I am."

"Only me."

"Only you."


End file.
